31. Chapter 29
Emery
“Okay, I think I’m done for today,” Darcy’s soothing voice calls from what feels like a million miles away, even though I can feel the brush of his fingers against my forearm.
The modeling session hasn’t been like anything I imagined. After that first round of photos, he had me stand in different areas of the room, so he could test against the natural light and shadows created by the paned windows.
My mouth had so many questions desperate to spill out into the silence between us, more and more piling up as I watched him work.
Like, why doesn’t he use artificial lighting to control the exposure?
Will this be black and white, like the sketch from his art class, or will he add color?
Is there a particular technique he is going to use to draw in the rays of sunshine, and can he teach me?
What size will his pieces be? Will they all be sketches, or will he do other things, like paint or sculpture?
But I bit it all back, because asking questions would start conversations, and I really don’t want to talk to him. Questions I absolutely do not want the answers to will come tumbling out, and I’m scared his answers will ruin the small amount of healing I have managed to do.
He brushes his fingers along my forearm, smoothing them down to the palm of my hand, massaging the muscular part near the base of my thumb.
Opening my eyes feels like a massive effort, especially considering I don’t remember closing them.
I don’t think I was actually asleep, more like in battery-saver mode.
I have zero idea how much time has passed, but my entire body feels sluggish and a little achy as each joint registers back in with my brain.
Which is weird, because all I’ve been doing is sitting in a high-backed chair with my arm held out to the side, supported by his ropes and the giant beam hanging from the ceiling.
When he’d pulled the dark purple rope out of his bag, ice ran down my spine. There was absolutely no way I could hide literally every “oh shit” feeling I was having because they all hammered my system so quickly that I ended up freezing in place.
The only saving grace was that Darcy kept his attention on the rope, working to unravel it, giving me the minute I needed to get my shit together. Even half a second of eye contact, and I probably would have bolted from the room, naked outfit and everything.
After unraveling the rope and arranging my current seating, Darcy positioned me before spending several minutes silently knotting and tying the deep purple rope around my arm in a deceptively delicate-looking netted braid, with my palm up and decoratively crisscrossed.
That had then been attached to the rope dangling from the beam, forming a sort of extended sling for my arm. Once he’d worked out the right height, it had been fairly comfortable to stay in that position.
That had been however long ago.
“Emmy.” His fingertips trace through the patterns of the rope, tracing diamonds and triangles as they move from my elbow down to my wrist. “Princess, it’s time to wake up.”
Lolling my head in the direction of the voice, I manage to peel my eyes apart and stare at Darcy, something about his nickname for me scratching at the back of my mind, but I can’t grab on to it. “You’re done?”
Midnight blue eyes under thick brows stare back at me. “For today. I’m going to unbind your arm now, let me know if it feels uncomfortable at all.”
“S’okay,” I reply, allowing my eyes to slide back shut.
“Uh, ah, eyes open, pretty girl. No slipping back into that floaty space.”
Sighing, I force my eyes open and watch as the lines of the rope loosen and tighten as he works it free. “I wasn’t floaty.”
Even I can hear the petulance in my voice, but I don’t want him thinking I was floating for him like back at the apartment. “I was asleep.”
“Haven’t been sleeping well?” The tie in Darcy’s hair is a little loose, and strands have escaped to frame his face.
I shrug, then hold up my brace. “Hard to sleep with this. Wakes me up every time I move.”
His eyes flicker from the beautifully twisted section mid forearm to the black brace on my other wrist. “Have you mentioned it to anyone?”
“No,” I grit out, barely holding back a scoff. I raise my chin and turn away from him, a hot, burning sensation slinking its way through my veins.
Have I mentioned it to anyone? Right. Who, exactly? The only person I have is Oakley, maybe Will. But what the hell are they going to do?
But that’s not who he means, is it? He means them. Have I mentioned it to one of them? What, so they can sweep me back up into their orbit and look after me? Take away all my choices and force me to do what they think is best for me?
No.
That won’t be happening again.
I’ll deal with this on my own.
The last of the rope is undone in silence, and because Darcy is a master of his craft, there is absolutely no discomfort. As soon as my arm is free, I cradle it to my chest as I stand, then take several steps away from Darcy and the chair.
He slowly stands from his crouched spot by the chair, rope dangling from his fingers, a crease between his eyebrows. “Emmy…”
I hold up a hand, stopping him before he can say something that will soften my walls or some shit. “Is the session over?”
His jaw tightens and he nods slowly, head barely moving. “Yes, but I was hoping to—”
“Okay, well, I’m going to grab my stuff and go.” With zero hesitation, I spin on the spot and dash toward the privacy screen, quickly swapping back into my underwear, shirt, and shorts, and leaving the two-piece on the little bench seat that I found them on.
I slide my feet into my sneakers, then head back out as I shoulder the bag. “Our next session is Tuesday afternoon, right?”
Darcy hasn’t moved an inch, and his normally expressive face has gone completely flat. “Right.”
Nodding, I stride toward the closed door, not giving a fuck that it looks like I am fleeing from him, because that’s exactly what I’m doing. Fleeing. Running away. I don’t even bother saying goodbye, just open the door and slip out, back into the bustle of the warehouse.
I offer tight smiles to anyone I pass on the way out, and it’s not until I step into the sunshine and breathe in fresh air that I realize I don’t have a car booked to pick me up. Which is fine, it’s totally fine. I’ll walk to the next block and order one as I go.
There is no fucking way that I can stay here, not right now. As much as I tried to protect my walls from him, it has just become abundantly clear that, where I thought they were made of brick, they are actually made of artist’s clay before its been fired.